


There's No Such Thing as Too Pretty

by Cameo (CameoSF)



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoSF/pseuds/Cameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Stephen are being chased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Such Thing as Too Pretty

**There’s No Such Thing as Too Pretty**

 

            The Anomaly seemed to have come and gone without incident. It wasn’t until the Westchester Marine Research Institute called to say their entire population of sea life had disappeared, along with one of their scientists, that Nick Cutter’s team realized they’d missed something. A mad dash to the facility revealed another previously unknown species, one that lived in seawater and did not discriminate in its eating habits. It had required the entire group to corral the monsters into a single tank, where the intention was to confine them until the Anomaly re-opened and they could be returned to their own prehistoric period. That plan did not last long, and to his chagrin, Cutter found himself and Stephen sealed inside a series of airlocks, the predator-filled tank at one end, the exit at the other blocked by multiple compartments full of seawater. They could do little but wait helplessly for Connor and Abby to sort out how to free them.

            Stephen was untalkative, not unusual since the revelation of his affair with Cutter’s wife. Cutter hadn’t decided yet how he felt about that. Helen’s eight-year absence and her current vanishing act made a confrontation with her impossible, for all the good it would do, and he had no desire to use Stephen as a scapegoat. The younger man had apologized for not confessing his indiscretion sooner. Cutter wasn’t inclined to end their friendship, and not only for the sake of the team.

            “It’s a good thing you’re so pretty,” he said suddenly, casting a quick and peevish glance at his colleague. He’d been monitoring their progress through the airlocks on a handheld device that showed the interior of the institute on a radar-like screen. The locks were opening and closing steadily, presumably under the control of Connor at some distant terminal, but far too slowly for his nerves. From the corner of his eye he saw Stephen look up, a slight furrow marring his handsome brow.

            “What did you say?”

            Cutter checked the thick observation window that ran alongside the compartments, the one displaying the tank containing at least a dozen of the creatures that should not exist in this time and place. They were vaguely fish-like, with quite a bit of snake thrown in, culminating in smiling shark teeth. They strongly reminded him of something dreamt up by the writers of America’s Sci-Fi Channel movies, the watching of which he considered his one guilty pleasure and which he wasn’t about to admit to anyone. Actually, studying these things, Cutter wondered if the writers might not have had their own encounter with an Anomaly at some point. Might be worth following up on. In the meantime, the creatures were uncannily intelligent and were at that moment darting single file down a tube that would lead them directly to the airlocks.

            “Did you say something?” Stephen persisted. He had been fingering his weapon, ready to fire at an instant’s notice, but now his attention was off the door they’d just come through and on Cutter.

            According to the handheld, there were seven more airlocks to go. Wherever he was, Connor must be timing the process carefully, draining each compartment, opening the lock, allowing Cutter and Stephen to slip through, then closing it again to prevent the nasty fishies from following. Normally Cutter would cringe at the thought of their safety being in Connor’s hands, but Abby was there to keep him focused. Although young, they had proven to be worthwhile and resourceful members of his group.

            The airlock in front of them opened and they hurried through, Stephen automatically turning to keep watch on the closing door until it was firmly secured behind them. Despite his lack of military training, he’d taken to his position as team tracker and weapons expert without a quibble.

            “But then, you always have been good at taking orders,” Cutter murmured. He supposed that was why his supposedly faithful right-hand had ended up sleeping with his wife. Helen was nothing if not forceful, and Stephen rarely questioned instructions. Study archeology, dig up that skeleton, carbon date this artifact, hop into that bed. Helen wouldn’t have done it because she felt anything for their student; she would have done it merely because she wanted to and she could.

            “Say again?” Stephen asked, sounding somewhat perplexed.

            Maybe not the brightest bulb in the chandelier, Cutter admitted to himself, but an eager pupil and stalwart friend. And so damned pretty. Even without the man’s skill and loyalty, Cutter expected he would have kept Stephen around as eye candy. The fact that Stephen had shown himself willing to forego a life and career of his own in order to follow Cutter’s obsessions was icing on the cake. The fact that the man had opted to stay and work with his mentor after cuckolding him indicated the icing might be a bit thick.

            “Helen always did have a sweet tooth,” Cutter conceded aloud.

            “What are you talking about?” Stephen demanded, looking a trifle cheesed off now. He was scowling at Cutter, his mouth thin, but he kept his gun trained on the door. It was an air-gun; they had originally theorized that a blast of 100% oxygen would keep the creatures at bay, but that was before they’d seen the size of them. Cutter now suspected that the most the gun would do was make them sneeze.

            The next airlock opened just as a snout-shaped dent appeared in the previous door, accompanied by a thud and a splash. Evidently the monsters were successfully battering their way through the locks, bringing the full contents of the tank with them. If Connor didn’t get his arse in gear, Cutter figured he and Stephen were going to end up as wet and very messy fish food.

            “They’re gaining on us,” Stephen observed.

            “You think?” Cutter muttered, his Scots accent growing stronger as he grew more testy. His response got an outright glare from his companion, but nothing more. Stephen had never been one to verbalize his feelings, or even to reveal them through actions; it was Cutter’s personal belief that the younger man knew he wasn’t very good at controlling his emotions once they were let loose, and therefore kept a tight reign on them. Even Helen hadn’t been able to bring out his anger. Cutter wondered whether she’d managed to provoke his passion. “That I would have liked to have seen.”

            Stephen opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a series of crashes from the airlock door that had just closed. The metal was deeply pocked where the creatures were attempting to break through. The next door had yet to shift even a centimeter.

            “Come on, come on, come on.” Cutter kept one eye on his handheld, one on the airlock, and one on the deepening indentations. The second the forward door began to creep upwards, he was under it, immediately followed by Stephen. They rolled to either side of the opening and let out simultaneous sighs of relief when the barricade came down just as water started to flow in. The battering resumed at once.

            “Four more,” Stephen gasped, moving to the next airlock. He sounded more than a bit frazzled. Raising his useless weapon, he glanced back at his colleague. “I don’t think we’re going to make it. If they get through, stay behind me. I can hold them off long enough for you to escape.”

            “Yeah, and sheep can fly,” Cutter replied. It irked him no end that the man who could betray him could also offer to lay down his life for him. Between the two adulterers, it was much easier and more satisfying to blame his wife.

            “What is your problem?” Stephen finally demanded.

            You,” Cutter stated. He strode up to the other and looked him straight in the eyes; they were nearly the same height, so it wasn’t a stretch. “You are my problem and have been ever since-“

            “Since you found out about me and Helen? I told you that was a mistake. It was stupid-“

            “No, you great mollusk, ever since we met!”

            He had to break off as water began streaming in through a newly formed hole in the door behind them. Fortunately a slimy nose jammed itself into the opening, allowing them the extra minute they needed for Connor to open the next airlock. Again it closed with mere nanoseconds to spare.

            Stephen had lowered the gun, his tanned face confused. Cutter rolled his eyes in exasperation and approached him again, planning to tell the man exactly what his problem had always been, when a corner of the airlock behind them gave way. Water poured in, along with three of the creatures. To Cutter’s bemusement, they collided in the opening and stuck there, rather like a scaly version of the Three Stooges. The influx of water slowed but continued to rise in the small compartment. Barely six feet square, the enclosed area would not take long to fill.

            Cutter couldn’t take it any more. His next breath could be his last, and he’d be damned if he’d waste it: pulling Stephen to his chest, he planted the deepest, most explanatory kiss he could manage on those pretty lips. Stephen froze, then raised one hand to the back of Cutter’s neck, holding him there. With the other hand he pointed the gun and fired a few rounds in the general direction of the creatures, producing some major air bubbles but not hindering them in the slightest. Luckily, their squirming had merely lodged them more firmly in the opening.

            “Nick…” Stephen whispered when they broke for air. Cutter didn’t let him elaborate: he started another kiss that only ended when the door they’d been leaning against rose and a wave of murky water deposited them on the floor of the next room. The door came down after them, and this time there were no pursuing thumps from the other side, just some vicious chomping noises and some rather distressed hisses and gurgles.

            “I think we’re going to make it,” Cutter said quietly, at the same time thinking, “Oh Christ, I think we’re going to make it!” He started to get up, but Stephen grasped his shoulder. Searching the man’s intense blue eyes, Cutter decided he loathed Helen more than ever. “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. “I thought we were going to die.”

            Stephen blinked. “Is that the only reason you did it?”

            “…It’s the only reason I did it today.”

            “Will you find a reason tomorrow?”

            It was Cutter’s turn to frown. “What are you saying?”

            To one who knew him, Stephen’s gaze was earnest and uncertain. “I’m saying… it was never Helen.”

            “I know that.”

            “She thought you and I… That’s the only reason she wanted me, to take from you. To hurt you.”

            “She did.” Cutter said frankly. “I never knew she hated me so much.”

            “She’s alone now, and bitter… Toxic.”

            Stephen set the gun aside in order to slip his hand into Cutter’s wet blond locks and bring his head down for another kiss. This one lasted until they heard the next door begin to rise, and Cutter found himself devoutly hoping they hadn’t reached the end of the compartments.

            They hadn’t, but according to the handheld, there was only one more airlock between them and safety. Cutter reluctantly released Stephen, stood up, then reached down to haul the other to his feet. There were still no sounds from beyond the previous lock, and Cutter suddenly realized that the water that had gushed in with them was tinged with red. In other circumstances he’d be sorry to see the strange creatures kill each other off, but at the moment his concern was entirely elsewhere.

            “Nick,” Stephen said again, and left it at that, simply watching Cutter as if expecting him to read his mind. Cutter could see regret and longing on the face he’d beheld practically every day of his life for the past decade. He could live without his wife; he had no desire to wake up a single day without his friend.

            “Damn Helen,” he finally said. Stephen nodded in relief. “You know how I feel about you now. Will it change anything?”

            “I certainly hope so.”

            That made Cutter crack a smile. “It’s late. Join me for dinner tonight?” he suggested, adding, “And by dinner I mean the first food we see might be breakfast.”

            “I’ll be there.”

            The final airlock rose with a swish. Immediately outside Abby stood with air-gun primed, ready to do battle on their behalves. She looked seriously disappointed when there proved to be no monsters to slay. Relaxing her stance, she craned to see past them into the airlock. “Are you all right?”

            “Never better,” Cutter burred, passing her. He was glad to be out of the confined space, even if it meant he could no longer dally with Stephen. “I’m afraid the snakehead terrors are no more. We have some cleaning up to do.”

            “The what?”

            Connor came running over, scarf and hair flying. “I did it?”

            “Yes, you did it. Good job.”

            The youngest member of their group beamed at Abby, who was still studying her soaked colleagues. Stephen was straight-faced again, as if he hadn’t just experienced several varieties of excitement. Cutter winked when he caught his eye, and then was delighted to see that a faint blush only made the man prettier.

            “What happened in there?” Abby asked suddenly.

            They were saved having to synchronize their stories by Connor, whose adrenaline was still pumping. He grabbed her arm and drew her back the way he’d come, talking a mile a minute about his expertise with computers. His perky blonde companion went along thoughtfully.

            When Cutter turned around, Stephen was waiting for him, as usual, silent but exuding anticipation. Cutter’s pulse-rate speeded up at the mere sight of him.

            “I don’t know about you,” he remarked, “but I expect to be busy tonight. If Sir Lester is going to get a report on today’s events, it will have to be written now. Are you up for it?... Let me re-phrase that, do you think we can set aside our dinner plans and remain un-distracted enough to write a coherent report?”

            Stephen didn’t hesitate. “No.”

            “Right you are.”

            They headed for the exit, striding side by side past confused facility employees and the armed soldiers that were stationed around the perimeter of the building. If anyone thought it odd they were drenched from head to toe and leaving the rest of their group behind, no one spoke up. One of the few advantages of being in charge, Cutter mused.

            One of the disadvantages was approaching them from the parking lot; when Sir Lester spotted them he raised a hand for their attention, but it was unilaterally ignored. Cutter and his impossibly pretty teammate had reached the latter’s jeep, and they got in quickly. Within seconds they were driving off into the sunset. Cutter couldn’t help smirking at such an unlikely ending to an encounter with prehistoric monsters. He bet he’d never see that on a Sci-Fi Channel movie.

 


End file.
